


Peaceable Kingdom

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedwetting, Coloring, Diapers, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nursing, Spanking, Therapy, Trauma, dubcon, nonsexual age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt on the kink meme: http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/3819.html?thread=7401707#cmt7401707</p><p>Titled for the song I was listening to when I wrote it: http://youtu.be/KiAKcGPzJU4</p><p>Chilton is traumatized after Hannibal frames him for murder, and Alana decides to treat him by letting him be her little boy.</p><p>I'm surprised at how easily this came to me. Usually I'm a super-slow writer. Must have been inspired!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peaceable Kingdom

“I’d like to uncuff you, Frederick. Can I trust you not to hurt me?”

Frederick Chilton was chained to the table of the prison’s visiting room, starting his first therapy session with his erstwhile colleague Alana Bloom. He found it encouraging that she didn’t seem focused on plumbing the depths of the Ripper’s depravity. It seemed he had an ally aside from Will.

He nodded to her, throat tight at the thought of having his hands unbound. Alana undid the shackles that held him to the table and took him into her arms, tucking his head against her chest and rubbing his back.

“Good.” She brought her chair to his side of the table and sat down, keeping an arm around his waist. He certainly wasn’t going to object to the beautiful doctor petting and fondling him; it was nicer than anything he expected to happen when he was taken into custody, but he didn’t know how it related to his treatment.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” she asked.

“I’ve been framed for murder.”

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?” Her voice was soft and gentle, not contradicting him, but not explicitly agreeing, either.

“Terrified.” He hadn’t meant to say it. It had just slipped out.

She squeezed him tighter, careful of his still-tender scar. “There are a lot of scary things going on in your world, huh?”

He nodded; his voice was too choked to speak. He didn’t resist her when she pulled his head down to her shoulder and started to rock him. He cried softly on the sleeve of her dress, clinging to her warmth and trying to take shelter in the soft, feminine scent of her hair. Most of their first session was spent in her holding and shushing him.

***

“Hello, Frederick.” She always smiled when she came into the visiting room. He liked that. Not many people smiled at him. “I brought you something.” She’d taken to bringing him books or newspapers, or sometimes music. Any distraction was precious in this place. But what she took out of her bag as she sat down next to him this time was different.

“Coloring books?” He was a little incredulous. Granted, everyone thought he was traumatized or demented or both, but he still had an adult’s mental capacity.

Alana just set out a box of crayons. “Mm hm. It’s a good calming activity. Engaging without being taxing. It lets you engage your motor functions without distracting from conversation.”

He picked up one of the books and flipped through it, disbelieving. There were black and white outlines of forests, flowers, and little woodland creatures. “I’m not coloring.”

She nudged him gently. “Try one page? For me?”

He glared at her. “I am not a child.”

She shrugged. “I’m not either.” She opened the other book, this one mostly planes and helicopters, and started coloring the sky.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Do you really think this will help?”

“The evidence supports it.” She put down the blue and picked up orange. Apparently, her helicopter was flying through a sunset. Charming.

Reluctantly, he picked up a crayon, glaring at it as if it had offended him. Raccoons were brown. Even creepy, big-eyed raccoons waving to the viewer and smiling.

Alana calmly kept coloring her sunset. It was a little easier not having to look her in the eye.

“So, how have you been sleeping?”

“Terribly, actually.”

She made a sympathetic sound. “Can you tell me about it?”

He dug his crayon in harder. “I keep dreaming about it,” he said. “About him.”

“Hannibal?”

He nodded, trying to wipe his eyes without being too obvious. “And... the bodies. Of the two agents. And all the blood...”

She could feel him tensing up beside her and put a steadying hand on his back. “Do these dreams wake you up?”

“Sometimes.” He laughed humorlessly. “At other times, they simply continue all night. Lucky me.”

“I’d like to take you through some relaxation exercises.”

“I _know_ relaxation exercises, I read the same journals you did. They don’t work.”

Her voice was still calm, still patient. “I’d like to take you through some different ones.”

He leaned his head against her, sulking just a little. “Fine.”

She had a good voice for hypnosis. The kind you didn’t mind obeying.

***

At their next session, she’d convinced the guards to let them use a normal room, one with a couch and no chains. There was still the ubiquitous two-way mirror, but if he kept his eyes on Alana, he could block it out of his mind most of the time.

She took him through the exercise again, had him imagine a warm, safe place, something holding him securely. It hadn’t quite cured the nightmares yet, but it did make him feel better. When he opened his eyes, his shoulders weren’t as tight, and his stomach didn’t hurt as badly. She was smiling calmly at him, and it was easy to smile back. He found that he trusted her, and when she reached out to stroke his hair, he leaned into her hand.

***

He’d started looking forward to his therapy sessions. Alana was so gentle with him, when no one else was. She never snapped or threatened him. At night, when he was going through the ritual of imagining his warm, safe place, trying to ward off the nightmares, he started to imagine resting in her arms. He’d lie on his front, imagining that he was laying on her, letting her snuggle him like a child. His hand would fist gently on the mattress, and he’d nuzzle his pillow, pretending that she was there to keep him safe.

He always felt pathetic for it in the morning, but by nighttime, he always did it again.

***

He knew the routine now. First he’d lay back and let her take him through the exercises, then they’d color while he answered her questions. He’d gotten through the first book and had to start a new one. It helped to take his mind off what he was saying. This time, though, she stayed him with a hand when he went to sit on the couch.

“I’d like to try something different today,” she said.

“Different how?” he asked, hating the tone of apprehension he couldn’t keep out of his voice. She stroked his cheek to soothe him, and he was embarrassed by how much he needed it.

“I’d like to hold you during the exercises.”

“What?” The amount of physical contact in their sessions was already at the high end of normal. Physically _holding_ him would be outright unorthodox.

“Sometimes the feeling of being held and contained by another person lets a patient feel safe to express troubling emotions.”

“Yes, for very young children! It isn’t generally recommended for patients over the age of four.” He was blushing with the indignity. It was as if someone had looked into his mind at night and seen him imagining her strong arms around him.

She shrugged. “The limbic system doesn’t change that much with age. Our culture has a bias against touch between adults, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be therapeutic.”

He looked at her skeptically, arms crossed in front of him.

“Prison is a very isolating environment, even dangerously isolating. We need to show your body that you’re still a part of human society. That you’re still cared for and accepted.”

“Mm. Am I.” He started to pace, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Yes. Are you willing to at least try?”

He ducked his head, humiliated beyond belief, but nodded. It had been months since he’d been touched and held like she was describing. He was too hungry for it to turn it down.

“Okay.” She took off her shoes and sat crosswise on the couch, bringing her legs up to rest on the cushions and leaning against the arm. “Come here, Frederick. It’s all right.” She held her arms open and guided him to sit down. He was bracketed on both sides by her legs and arms, and he couldn’t fight off the surge of comfort and pleasure when she squeezed him close. Deep pressure was calming whatever one’s state of mind, and he was no exception.

“You’re somewhere very warm, and very safe.”

He closed his eyes as she started the familiar induction, letting her guide him deeper and deeper, more and more relaxed with every breath.

When she brought him out of it, he was startled to find that he’d been sucking on his thumb. He hastily took it from his mouth, hoping against hope that she hadn’t noticed.

***

“The... the nightmares have been getting worse,” he managed to get out, eyes firmly glued to his coloring page.

“I’m sorry, Frederick. Can you tell me about them?”

“More vivid. I wake up terrified, I don’t know where I am...” Tears were starting to form in his eyes. He wiped them away angrily.

“We’re dealing more closely with the trauma and the difficult emotions it brings up. It makes sense that it would appear more vivid right now. Although I know it isn’t easy.” She rubbed his tight back consolingly.

He tried to speak, but found his voice stymied by shame.

“Are there any other symptoms?” she prompted. “Flashbacks? Dissociation? Night sweats?”

“I wet the bed last night,” he said, in the smallest whisper he could manage. He expected her to withdraw, to need a moment to school her disgust into pity.

Instead, she took him into her arms and held him tightly, rocking slowly from side to side. “I know, honey. The nurse told me.”

He sobbed at the revelation. Of course the nurse had told her. They had to share information like that, talking about his body like some recalcitrant thing that had to be brought into order.

“It’s normal, Frederick. You have to know it’s not your fault.” She hugged him tighter when he tried to pull away. “Bedwetting is a stress reaction, like a headache. It’s your body’s way of processing the trauma.”

“I want to stop it,” he said, piteously.

“I know, I know you do,” she said. “But the best thing we can do is wait it out. When you start to feel safe again, it will go away on its own. You’ll see.”

He couldn’t imagine feeling safe in this place. “And until then?”

“Until then, we just keep you dry and clean, and keep working through the memories. Okay?”

He whimpered softly, but he let her draw him back to the couch and talk him through the induction again. It did help him feel better, if only a little.

***

He was sore the next time he met with her, and the lead nurse of the night shift was in the room to discuss some ‘behavioral issues.’

Nurse Brandon was a muscular young man, calm with his charges, but unhesitating to use force when necessary. Chilton could have used more like him at the hospital, and he idly wondered how much the state paid him. Still, it was one thing to be behind a desk, giving orders to a nurse, and another to be on a bed, taking them.

He looked at the ground as Alana came in.

“Hi, Brandon. Is something the matter?” She was calm and cheerful like always. Steadying.

“Dr. Chilton hasn’t been cooperating with the staff,” Brandon said. This was a change. Since he’d been under Alana’s care, Frederick had been a model prisoner, tractable and quiet.

“Really?”

Brandon nodded. “Last night, he refused to wear his diaper. When we tried to put it on him, he struggled and had to be restrained.”

“You fought the nurses?” Alana asked, a little shocked. Frederick blushed and nodded, not meeting her gaze.

Suddenly, there were three quick strikes on the seat of his jumpsuit. They stung terribly, even through the cloth. “Ow!” He looked between Alana and nurse Brandon, and to the two-way mirror, but no one seemed to think anything of a psychiatrist spanking her patient.

“Frederick, you could have been hurt,” Alana said tenderly, drawing him into a protective embrace. “You’re still healing. You need to be careful.”

He felt so childish and helpless. It was bad enough wearing diapers, but now his doctor felt she had to punish him to keep him safe. Tears started to gather in his eyes.

Alana snuggled him closer, petting his back to soothe him after his spanking. “I don’t want you fighting with the nurses anymore, or anyone else. You’re very lucky you didn’t re-injure yourself. Do you understand?”

He nodded and muttered a yes, which seemed to be good enough. Alana led him over to the couch and sat down beside him.

“Why don’t you want to wear your diapers, Frederick?” she asked.

“It’s a humiliation. It’s completely unnecessary.”

“Now, you know that isn’t true.” She rubbed his back gently, keeping him close to her. “Diapers are the best way to keep you dry and clean.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke over him firmly. “I know you don’t like wetting the bed, but right now it’s something that happens, and we need to deal with it. You don’t have to like the diapers, but you do have to wear them. And either nurse Brandon can help you with that, or I can.”

His heart sank at the idea of beautiful, composed Alana Bloom seeing him naked, treating him like a child. She only stroked his hair.

“Would you like that better? If I helped you with your diapers?”

If the choice were between Alana and Brandon, well... at least he knew Alana was on his side. She knew how to calm him when he was upset, and he was most definitely upset about this latest development. Slowly, he nodded.

“Okay.” She smiled up at Brandon. “I’ll be here before lights out tonight. I already have clearance.”

“I’ll see you then,” Brandon said, and waved to Frederick as he left the room, grateful that Dr. Bloom was so good at making the prisoner behave.

She spent a little extra time on the relaxation part of their session, and even after it was over, she kept him in her arms, snug and safe. He wouldn’t have thought so, but it really did make it easier to talk. Whatever was troubling him, she was there to ground and support him.

***

His cell was set away from the other prisoners, which was the only comfort as lights out drew closer. He didn’t know how he would live through the embarrassment. He kept running over scenarios in his mind. Could he refuse her? Even now that he’d agreed to her arrangement? Could he argue his way out of it somehow?

He was still at a loss when he heard her heels clicking down the hallway, and the guards let her in, standing by his door, ready to intervene if he attacked her.

“Hello, Frederick,” she said, smiling warmly. She was carrying a folded diaper, along with baby oil and powder. He blanched. Even nurse Brandon hadn’t tried to use those. She set them down on the bed and patted its surface. “Go ahead and undress, and lay down here.”

He crossed his arms and backed away from her. “This is still completely unnecessary. I am not a child, and I do not need to be treated like one.”

She sighed and put a hand on his arm. “Frederick, you’re in our care now. You’re in _my_ care, and that means I have to make sure you’re healthy. It’s your body, and you can make decisions about it, but you have to take your medicine, and you have to wear your diapers.”

He stiffened at the words, almost pouting.

“Take off your jumpsuit, and I’ll help you with the rest.”

“No.”

“Do you need another spanking?” she asked. Her tone was still gentle; she didn’t raise her voice a bit. Frederick looked at the guards, blushing, but they showed no acknowledgment that this was unusual at all.

“I don’t need a spanking, and I don’t need a diaper!”

She sighed as she smacked his bottom again, making him cry out. He rubbed it, tears forming in his eyes. It really did hurt, and the humiliation made it even worse.

“Come on, Frederick. Be a good boy, and this won’t take long at all. Okay?”

He gave a little, jerky nod, and she hugged him. “I’m only going to punish you to keep you healthy and safe, okay? Anything else, we can discuss.”

He took off his jumpsuit and let her guide him to the bed.

“This is pretty scary, huh?” she asked.

“I’m not _afraid_ ,” he said indignantly, although she was right. It was frightening to have his control stripped away, to have a colleague see him in such a vulnerable state. It was beyond frightening, it was terrifying.

“Here,” she said, picking up his pillow. She tucked it into his arms. “You can hold this. It might help you feel better.” While he was distracted with the pillow, she slipped off his shorts and started oiling him. She was gentle and efficient, just rubbing the oil in without lingering, but he still started to harden under her hands.

“I am so sorry,” he babbled, all but hiding behind the pillow. “If we can... I can put it on myself, we don’t need to—”

“Shh, shh. It’s all right.” She finished oiling him and gently powdered his bottom. “Lots of boys get erections during diaper changes. It’s normal, and it’s okay.” Before he knew it, she had taped the diaper up, wrapping his traitorous cock in soft, fluffy cotton, and pointing it down between his legs to keep him from making a mess.

“There, all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She wiped her hands off on a paper towel, looking like she’d done nothing stranger than put a band aid on a cut.

“Maybe not for you,” he muttered.

Alana pulled the blanket up over him, leaving his jumpsuit and shorts on the floor. He felt terribly childish in just his diaper and tee shirt. She tucked the blanket firmly around him. It reminded him of how she held him during therapy.

“You did well, Frederick,” she said. “I know it feels icky right now, but you were very good.” She even kissed his head before the guards called lights out and she had to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “Sleep well.”

Frederick didn’t think he’d sleep at all that night, but between his exhaustion and the snug, safe feeling of the blanket, he was out very quickly.

***

He tried to resist her at bedtime, but she was inexorably persistent, and even accommodating in a strange way. She brought him a stuffed bear to hold, so he could still use his pillow to sleep on. He hated it at first, but it did help the anxiety, having something soft and textured to hold. He started sleeping better. And if humiliation was the price he had to pay to get rid of the nightmares, well, he could accept it. It wasn’t like he had a choice, in any case.

***

“You’re doing great work with Chilton,” Jack said. “He’s cooperative, nonviolent, he even seems willing to talk.”

“We have a rapport,” Alana said, smiling as she took a sip of her coffee. “I think he’s actually my favorite patient.”

Jack laughed in disbelief, but let the comment stand. “The guards do say he’s developed some odd behaviors. They say he’s started sucking his thumb and wetting the bed, things like that. I’ve noticed a few childish mannerisms even in the short time I’ve observed him. Should we be concerned?”

Alana shook her head. “Not at all. This is a healthy mind’s response to an overwhelming situation. Confronted with a trauma of this magnitude, the mind draws back. It moves into an earlier stage, waiting to see if its needs will be met before it moves back into full functioning. Frederick’s regression is a sign that he’s trying to heal himself.”

Jack nodded. “Sounds like you have it in hand. Keep up the good work.” He clapped her on the arm as he left.

***

He was coming to depend on her. When he was upset or frightened, he looked forward to their next session, imagining Alana holding him and making everything better. Even if it was only for an hour, the thought of that comfort kept him functioning. He’d even started looking forward to bedtime, as much as he hated to admit it.

When he saw her this morning, he didn’t wait for her to hold him, but went into her arms on his own. She cooed praise to him that made his heart glow. He felt so safe with her he never wanted to leave her side. She tucked him into her arms on the couch like usual, and he drifted with the sound of her voice to guide him.

Instead of bringing him out of the light trance right away, she kept him there for a while, holding him snugly around his chest.

“Frederick? I’d like you to go back to a time when you felt safe. It might be when you were very young, and that’s okay. However young you need to be, I’m here to take care of you, and you can just relax, knowing that nothing is going to harm you.” She kept the slow, easy rhythm of her words, speaking in time to his breath.

“You’re able to move your body now, and you can lift your arms and turn around if you want to.” She stroked his hair. “Tell me what you see, Frederick.”

He turned around and buried his face in her shoulder, snuggling into the comfort of her body. “Mama.”

She hugged him closer, laying a gentle hand on the back of his head. “That’s right,” she said with a little kiss. “Mama’s here.”

He made a soft little whimper of need.

“Sweet baby. Sweet little Frederick, it’s all right. I’m going to bring you back now. When I count to three, you’ll feel a slow, easy rise back to full consciousness. You’ll remember everything that’s happened, and you’ll still be the same little Frederick you are right now. One... you’re rising slowly, gradually waking up. Two... you feel safe and calm, still in that time that you felt safest. Three. Come back to me, Frederick.”

He blinked and looked up at her, still feeling the same sense of calm. “Mama?”

“That’s right, baby,” Alana said. “Mama’s here.”

“This is... a very extreme form of transference,” he said.

Alana laughed. “I know, honey. That’s okay. I won’t do anything to hurt you. All right?”

He nodded and snuggled up to her chest. Right now, he didn’t care about standard practice. He just wanted his Mommy. He brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked while he rested in her arms, feeling protected.

“I’d like to nurse you, Frederick. Would you like that?”

She said it so casually, just like everything else. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked cautiously at the two-way mirror, but nothing happened. He supposed if the people in charge of him were okay with his psychiatrist cuddling and spanking him and putting him in diapers, they probably wouldn’t object to her nursing him either. She’d probably cleared it with the warden ahead of time. He blushed at the thought, until she petted his head gently.

“Shh, don’t worry,” she said. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.” She held him tighter. “Touch is good. Even for adults.”

He nodded and clung to her. He didn’t want anyone to take his Mama away. “Okay,” he murmured, and she undid the first two buttons of her blouse. Gently, she lowered the strap of her bra, freeing her left breast, and she guided him to it.

His cock was almost painfully hard, and he felt a flush of embarrassment. “I—I’m not sure this is entirely decent.”

“Do you feel aroused?” she asked.

He nodded, ashamed.

She hugged him tightly and ran her hand over his hair. “Well, just for now, I want you to just let those feelings stand. Be aware of them, and let them go. Okay?”

“I can try...”

“That’s right, honey,” she said, guiding his mouth to her nipple. She sighed as he took it into his mouth, running his tongue along it, exploring hesitantly. “Nursing can bring up a lot of emotions. Whatever you feel, I want you to acknowledge it and know that it’s okay. I’m here to hold you, and nothing bad is going to happen.”

He closed his eyes as he suckled, hiding in the warm darkness of her body. He felt arousal, and then calm from the gentle sucking motion. Then a terrible sense of loss, welling up dark in his chest. It made him give a little noise of distress, but Mommy hugged him closer, containing him, giving him space to feel. Tears started to spill from his eyes, and she held him through the crying. He didn’t even know why he was crying; he couldn’t have put it into words. He just knew that he needed his Mommy.

***

“Are you nervous?” Alana asked him.

Frederick straightened the front of his jumpsuit again, feeling shabby and exposed. “I can’t help it. I haven’t had many good experiences with hearings.”

She put an arm around him and squeezed gently. “They’ve already made their decision, honey. The hearing is just to make it official.”

His lawyer was there, along with the prison doctor and the warden, but he cuddled into Alana’s side, feeling very small, like he needed her protection. She rubbed his arm gently through the hearing. He didn’t need to speak except for a few yes or no answers.

When it was all over, Alana beamed at him. “There we are. You’re coming home with me!”

He hugged her tightly, overcome. Somehow, he’d expected this to be snatched away from him at the last moment, but they were already processing him, already letting him dress in the clothes she’d brought and giving him back what he’d had in his pockets when he was taken in. She was signing paperwork. She was stroking his hair as she buckled him into her car. They were driving toward her house, and he had tears in his eyes.

He had been released into Alana’s custody. Most of the authorities had been convinced he was innocent, and he was definitely considered low-risk. He was going to spend the rest of the time before his trial with Mommy, in a structured domestic setting where she could continue his treatment.

He’d still be monitored and have to check in regularly, but he’d be in a house instead of a cage. He could wear the little shorts and snuggly sweaters Mommy dressed him in instead of his scratchy jumpsuit. And best of all, he wouldn’t be kept by guards who manhandled him and herded him around like an animal. He’d be with Mommy, who would protect him.

“Are you excited to come home, baby?” Alana asked. But he was asleep in his seat, sucking on his thumb.

***

He was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing with a tray of water. Mommy had set out a plastic sheet and given him some toys for sensory play. Applesauce had wanted to drink the water, and then she’d wanted to lick his face when she was extra slobbery, which made him laugh. Now, though, she was curled up on the floor beside him, resting like a lazy dog.

He was wearing a bodysuit that he was too embarrassed to call a onesie. It was very soft, though, with white and baby blue stripes. He wore little tan shorts over it. The legs were short and loose enough that you could see the outline of his diaper if he moved the wrong way. Mommy had put him in diapers during the daytime, and she’d started dressing him in the morning. She said it encouraged healthy dependence, which was the first step toward a sense of security. He’d fussed at first, asking for his grownup clothes back, but she was so gentle and kind, and so happy when he wore the clothes she got for him, that he couldn’t help but obey her.

Bear-Bear sat beside him as well, his fuzzy face looking serious as he considered the water tray. Frederick poured water from a measuring cup over a plastic watermill and watched it spin, feeling the water run over his hands. He liked sensory playtime. His favorite kind was finger paint, but that could get messy. Water was so pretty and clear.

Mommy came in to check on him, and she ruffled his hair. “Are you having fun?” she asked.

“Uh huh.” He tried putting the ping-pong ball under the watermill and pouring water over it. The pressure of the stream held it down for a couple seconds, but then it bobbed to the surface again.

She held out her arms for him, and he stood up to hug her. He always felt so safe when he was with Mommy. Even the bad dreams weren’t too scary when she was there to take care of him.

“Here, let’s check your diaper.” She slipped a finger into the leg of his shorts, and he squirmed until she shushed him. “Still dry. Are you hungry?”

He nodded, sucking on his finger.

“Well, why don’t we sit and cuddle, and Mommy will feed you? Then we can put the toys away.”

“Okay, Mommy.” He picked up Bear-Bear and snuggled into her lap on the couch. This was one of his favorite times, when Mommy would hold him and feed him, all wrapped up in her arms.

She unbuttoned the front of her dress and undid the front clasp of her bra. She took his head in her hands and cooed softly as she guided him to her breast. “There’s my little Frederick,” she murmured. “There’s my little baby boy.”

He closed his eyes as he suckled, hand making a fist in the soft cloth of her dress. It had been strange at first when she’d started actually making milk, but she said she’d been taking medicine to help with it, and being suckled on naturally triggered it as well. Now it was part of their daily routine. She’d nurse him to bond, to give him comfort, or just to give him extra protein when his tummy felt bad.

He fell into a calm, restful state, breathing regulated by the rhythm of nursing, Mommy’s heartbeat slow and steady in his ears. He had gone a long time without feeling this safe.


End file.
